


on i go (move to move)

by Aenqa



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst and Fluff, Blood and Injury, Chronic Pain, Disability, Explicit Language, Family Dynamics, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Minecraft Mechanics, Techno-centric, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:33:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27773080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aenqa/pseuds/Aenqa
Summary: If you ask someone whether they’ve ever experienced real, severe physical pain, you’ll learn a lot from their response.Techno knows what it means to be in pain. He’s accepted it as a necessary consequence of keeping his family safe. But when the pain he's experiencing starts to become too much to bear alone, it takes his family to show him what it might mean to feel better.
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & Phil Watson, Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot, Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 104
Kudos: 1923
Collections: Completed stories I've read





	on i go (move to move)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a hurt/comfort fic that centers around descriptions of injury and physical pain; please keep that in mind! Thanks for reading <3

If you ask someone whether they’ve ever experienced real, severe physical pain, you’ll learn a lot from their response.

There are many people who’ll say yes – sure, they have. If they respond that casually, you’ll know right away the true answer is no. The same goes for anyone who says _I don’t know_ or _maybe_. Those answers also mean no.

Someone who has experienced any sort of serious pain won’t hesitate. They’ll know the answer right away. And you’ll be able to see it. Even if they don’t say it.

* * *

If you asked Tommy whether he’s ever experienced real pain, his response would be “obviously, yes, give me some fuckin’ credit here.” It would be an exaggeration.

It’s true that Tommy’s had his share of scrapes – to the degree that Phil has found him barging into their house with blood pouring down his face almost more times than the other two combined. Tommy is drawn to fights like a moth to a flame: aware he’ll get burned, unable to resist the draw.

“If you keep going on like this, you’re gonna find yourself respawning one of these days,” Phil lectures him on a particularly bad day, pressing a cloth to Tommy’s bloody nose as the teenager tilts his head downwards over the kitchen sink, wincing.

“So what?” Tommy says, his voice muffled and slightly nasally. “’m fourteen, plenty of my friends’ve respawned, ‘s not a big deal -,”

“It _is_ a big deal,” Phil says sternly.

“You don’t want to fuck with respawns, Tommy,” Wilbur says matter-of-factly, perched on a nearby counter. “Otherwise you’re gonna end up like Tech.”

“Wilbur,” Phil says, shooting his oldest a look.

“What? I’m just saying -,”

“Why don’t you make yourself useful and go get me some ice or something, Wil,” Tommy snaps, giving Wilbur a side glare.

“Get it yourself, then.”

“Wilbur’s right,” comes a new voice as Technoblade walks into the kitchen, and if Wilbur feels embarrassed that his younger brother overheard him, he doesn’t show it. “You’ve gotta pick your battles, Tommy. What were you even fightin’?”

“Zombie,” Tommy grumbles, gone sullen. He’ll talk back to Wilbur, even Phil, but when _Techno_ is playing responsible, he has to chalk it up as a losing battle. “Looked at me funny.”

“Ah, Tommy. That’s just how they look,” Phil says, patting the top of his head.

The fact that Tommy is able to keep up his usual banter is evidence enough that his fights have never inflicted serious damage, despite his boasts to the contrary. Tommy’s always left on his feet, always within earshot of his family members, always able to make it back to their little cabin in the woods without much harm being done.

And the few times things have ever gotten really risky – when he’s been stupid and ventured out at night without a shield, or tried to launch himself at a group of pillagers who get too close to their home – Techno’s always been there to help him.

* * *

Wilbur’s answer would be an easy, honest no.

This is mostly because of Phil. As the oldest, Wilbur’s been the most sheltered – the one kept on the closest leash, away from danger. He still bitterly complains about the fact that all the curfew rules and restrictions that applied to him throughout his entire life were relaxed for Techno and forgotten completely for Tommy.

“Remember how you never let me outside long enough to even see the sunset?” he grumbles one night, as he watches Tommy and Tubbo run around catching fireflies in the blue evening light. “Too many skeletons, right?”

“It’s much safer out here, now,” Phil says, sitting next to him on the porch. “We’ve got everything lit up and fenced off…”

“I know, I know,” Wilbur says, looking towards the little outpost where Techno sits on nights like this, looking out for signs of danger. “Perks of having older brothers, huh?”

“Perks of having _Techno,”_ Phil says pointedly.

“Perks of having Techno,” Wilbur agrees.

Wilbur sometimes doesn’t know what they’d do without Techno. Though Phil was always good at looking after Wilbur when it was just the two of them, he spends more and more time away as the three brothers grow older. Phil’s a coveted builder, and the contracts he receives, to construct buildings and contraptions all over the realm, are enough to keep them all housed, fed, and happy in their little cabin. 

During Phil’s absences, Wilbur takes over some of his responsibilities – looking after the house, getting food on the table, prodding his younger siblings to do their chores and finish their schoolwork. But he’s never much been one for fighting, and whenever there’s been a real threat, he’s always been grateful for Techno – Techno, who throws himself into battle like a man possessed, unflinching and deadly focused and absolutely unbeatable. Even the times Techno’s had to respawn, he’s always roared back into action nearly immediately, seemingly unbothered.

Wilbur’s never been quite as brave. He’s respawned a few times, but it’s mostly been stupid stuff, like accidentally falling down a ravine – the kind of respawn that takes only seconds, that barely even registers. He knows the feeling – of falling through something immensely dark and cold – of waking up wherever you last slept, jolting out of bed like there’s been cold water thrown over you. But it’s never been particularly painful.

Sometimes, he wonders what it feels like for other people. He wonders what it feels like for Techno, when he gets stabbed through the chest or struck with arrows – or that time their house was attacked by a group of bandits and Techno fought off each and every one of them, only to slump into Phil's arms, dying from blood loss. Wilbur wonders what it felt like that time the house burned down while Phil wasn’t there, when a sixteen-year-old Techno ran inside to try and save little Tommy’s precious music discs, only to disappear under the collapsing roof.

But Techno never brings it up, and Wilbur never asks.

* * *

Phil’s answer is yes. An earnest yes, with a tired little smile.

He’s lived long enough to see his fair share of danger and violence and pain. He’s broken enough bones during building; he’s taken enough arrows while shielding his boys. He’s bandaged himself up, alone in his room, gritting his teeth against the waves of hurt so as not to wake Wilbur. He’s woken up from a respawn with pain still rattling through his bones.

The older he gets, the more he feels it – the aches from where he’s been killed before. He knows this happens to people, sometimes. You get injured badly enough, and the pain doesn’t really fade after you respawn. It lingers, like the ghost of the wound. It seems to be an unavoidable complication of being guaranteed a long life.

Phil’s always been okay with that trade off for himself. He knows that eventually, he’ll get too old to respawn – that all the aches and pains will combine into one last breath, and he’ll be done. Until then, he can deal with the pains that come with age.

He becomes less okay with it the first time it happens to Technoblade.

It happens after the fire incident. Phil flies home the instant he hears about what’s happened and touches down in front of the burned-out husk of their house to see Wilbur and Tommy huddled around Techno, who looks harried and slightly singed. He’s mostly fine; it’s not the first time he’s respawned, having always been a little more reckless than his siblings.

But as they start the rebuilding process, Phil notices that Techno walks with a slight limp, looking down at his leg with a furrowed brow. He’s a little slower than usual, trailing a bit behind the group as he helps lug carts of logs from the forest.

Even a week later, with the house fixed and everything settled, Techno still doesn’t seem quite right. So Phil waits until one evening, when Wilbur and Tommy are arguing over something stupid in the living room and Techno is helping Phil clean up from dinner, to ask him about it.

“Does your leg still hurt?” Phil asks, trying to keep his voice casual as he washes the last plate.

Techno’s hands freeze on the cup he’s drying. He slowly sets it down. “You noticed.”

“Looks like you’re limping,” Phil says, glancing towards Techno, whose face is drawn.

Techno nods tersely, though he doesn’t make eye contact – just takes the plate from Phil and focuses on drying it. “Is that… normal? To still have pain?”

“It happens sometimes,” Phil says. “It’s more likely, the older you get – and the more you respawn.”

“Will it ever go away?” Techno asks quietly.

Something twists in Phil’s chest. “I don’t know,” he says honestly, and sees Techno’s head dip. “Sometimes it does. Sometimes it doesn’t. Usually, it’ll fade. You’ll get used to it, with time.”

“Has it ever happened to you?” Techno asks.

“Yes.”

“What does it feel like?”

Phil’s hand unconsciously moves to touch his back. “It’s like an uncomfortable stretch in my back, mostly. Sometimes, I get headaches from when I hit my head on a bad fall.”

Techno nods again, his eyebrows knitting together.

“What does it feel like for you?” Phil asks, because he feels like he should know, even though something instinctual inside him wants to recoil from it.

Techno hesitates for a long moment before finally meeting Phil’s gaze.

“It feels like my leg is still on fire,” he says softly, and Phil’s heart sinks like a stone. 

* * *

If you asked Techno? He’d probably just laugh. That would be answer enough.

Yes. Techno has felt real pain. Techno _feels_ real pain – almost daily.

The first time the pain didn't go away, it messed with his head for a while. Feeling his leg hurt constantly, like a sunburn under his skin, hot to the touch, the muscles weakened – it freaked him out. It made him think that he’d never be as strong as he used to be. And being strong is kind of Techno’s… _thing_.

But, ultimately, Phil is right. Techno gets used to it; the pain becomes a sort of background hum, something present but ignorable. Techno goes right back to living his life the way he wants: taking on anything, anywhere; venturing out further and further from Phil’s house to explore and find new tools and materials; continuing to push himself physically, because… that’s what he does. He takes hits, he takes respawns. He pushes forward.

Techno’s the one who does the brunt of protecting their home, anyway, so it’s not like he can stop. He’s the one who does the most to ward off monsters and pillagers and attacks from other people. His brothers rely on him: Wilbur, who can’t fight, and Tommy, who shouldn’t yet. This is Techno’s responsibility, and if that means he deals with the brunt of the injuries, that’s okay.

He picks up a few more problem areas over the years. Both of his legs usually ache, now; it feels like he’s already run a marathon from the moment he wakes up. There’s a sharp pain in his nondominant shoulder sometimes that radiates down to his back. And if he stretches the wrong way, he’ll get a stabbing pain in his side, where a pillager got him with a crossbow. It’s hard for him to get comfortable, usually, and very rare for him to go a day without noticing pain.

And whenever he respawns, he usually has a few breathtaking moments of pain before it fades to a manageable degree. He deals with it alone in his room, gritting his teeth against the waves of hurt until he can get himself up, stand on his feet.

Techno’s not sure how much his family understands about all this. He doesn’t bring it up very often, because there’s not much he thinks they can do. Phil asks about it, sometimes, but when he does, he always looks so sad that Techno just lies to end the conversation quickly. He's gotten pretty good at hiding it.

It’s fine. It’s manageable. Everything is manageable.

* * *

Until it isn't.

“We should start headin’ back soon, Wilbur,” Techno says one day, squinting towards the slowly setting sun. Phil sent them to the village to restock on arrows, a necessary trip – but now, Wilbur seems more interested in watching Tommy valiantly try to chat up the village girls clustered around the well in the middle of town.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right,” Wilbur says, snickering at Tommy’s antics. “Why don’t you go see if the weaponsmith has anything new for you, before we go?”

Calvin doesn’t, or he would have come out to see his best customer personally; but Techno sighs and wanders away, figuring it wouldn’t hurt to say hello, anyway.

The further he gets from the center of town, though, the more something seems wrong. There’s a strange sort of tension in the air, like something is about to snap.

Techno slows to a stop in the middle of the road, and then an arrow whistles through the air and slams into the dusty ground at his feet.

 _"Pillagers!”_ comes a scream, and Techno runs.

He’s sprinting back towards the well as a torrent of arrows rains down around him, wrenching his shield over his head and hearing the arrowheads lodge themselves into the wood. They’re getting caught in a fucking _raid,_ because of course they are, and he turns his head to see the waves of bandits coming over the hill behind him, a war cry rising up –

Techno sprints into the clearing in the middle of the village, sees Wilbur’s eyes widening, and grabs him by the arm. “ _Go!_ It’s a raid!”

Wilbur starts to run next to him and Techno drops his arm to grab Tommy’s, yanking the younger boy along as he yelps. The girls are already racing for their houses – the villagers have protocols for things like this, doors to lock, but Techno, Wilbur, and Tommy are vulnerable – they don’t have anywhere to go except Phil’s house, miles away.

“Ravagers!” Tommy suddenly screams, panicked, and Techno whirls to see the monstrous beasts trampling through the streets, their brays echoing off the walls. One sets its sights on the three of them and starts to rampage towards them, its tusks sharp and glinting.

“Fuckin’ _run,_ Tommy,” Techno says, pushing Tommy along with Wilbur and turning to string back an arrow on his bow as the ravager barrels closer. He stops, plants his feet, and lets an arrow fly, then another, thanking the gods he took the time to enchant his bow as he watches his arrows slice through the ravager’s armor. He lets one more arrow go and it hits the beast between the eyes, sending it to the ground; it slides to a stop right in front of Techno’s feet.

“Sorry,” Techno mutters. He likes the ravagers. He wishes the pillagers wouldn’t use them like this.

He regrets the moment of empathy a second later when an arrow pierces him through his shoulder.

The pain sears through him and Techno hisses, stumbling back, seeing an archer on the roof to his right; another arrow arcs through the air and Techno ducks, turning and sprinting towards his brothers, who have already made it to the edge of the village. They’re on the horses they brought here, who are frightened and close to bucking, waiting for him – watching with wide eyes.

“Go!” he shouts, as another arrow – this time from the other side – whizzes past his head. A pillager races out from behind a building in front of him, and Techno brings up his shield, blocking his sword.

Wilbur and Tommy aren’t leaving, though - Tommy looks close to running back into the fray, and Techno’s blood runs cold as he sees another group of archers take to the roofs above him, looking at his brothers, who are like sitting ducks on the flat prairie.

Knocking the pillager in front of him to the ground, Techno strings back another arrow and lets it fly. The arrow hits the ground right in front of his brother’s horses, and they spook, galloping away.

Techno watches his brothers escape and breathes a sigh of relief.

Then an arrow embeds itself into his thigh and he buckles, his knees hitting the ground. There’s someone on him, wrenching his bow away – he swings his fist and gets one, two good hits off on whoever’s attacking him, until someone else bashes their sword against his head from the side and he hits the ground with a cry. There’s pillagers all around him, then: a sword at his throat, the taste of blood and metal, and a cold stab in his chest – and –

Techno is wrenched into respawn with a force that shocks him, and even though he’s floating through endless cold, he feels like he’s burning.

He hits his bed more than he wakes up in it. And for a second, he can’t breathe.

It’s like everything is at its worst, all at once. His skin is hot and feverish, his chest is on fire; there’s a sensation like sharp needles being driven into his legs; his shoulder feels like someone is twanging his muscle fibers like guitar strings, pain radiating from his wrist to his shoulder. The pain practically wracks him; he twists in his bed at the sheer strength of it.

Techno finally manages to gasp for breath, and then he cries out.

It’s far, far worse than it’s ever been – bad to the point that it’s taking over his mind, shutting out every other thought, forcing him to be there, to _feel_ every second. There are tears in his eyes almost immediately, and he folds onto his side, willing it to fade, to go away.

The door slams open and Phil is there, looking stricken.

“What the hell happened,” he says shortly, rushing to Techno’s side. He reaches for Techno’s arm, but Techno flinches away.

“Pillager raid,” he gasps, and Phil’s face goes pale. The pain is getting worse again, and Techno doesn’t want Phil to see him like this, so he grits out, “Leave me alone, Phil, I’m fine, I just need to -,”

“You’re obviously not fine, so you can shut the fuck up about that,” Phil says in the short, low tone that means he’s deadly serious. “Wil and Tom. Do they need help?”

The pain is strong enough in his chest now to prevent breath, so Techno just shakes his head shortly, shoving his face into his elbow to muffle an agonized shout.

As though on cue, there are hoofbeats pounding up to the house. “Techno?” Tommy shouts from below as the front door slams open.

“Don’t let them in,” Techno begs, but there are already footsteps on the stairs, and then Wilbur is in the doorway, his face distraught, Tommy barreling up just behind.

“Are you okay?” Wilbur says and Phil says, “what the hell happened, Wilbur? You just left him there?” and Wilbur’s taken aback, saying, “of course I didn’t,” and Tommy rushes towards Techno, grabbing his shoulder: “Techno, you alright, man?”

It’s overwhelming. Technoblade tries to take a deep breath, tries to bottle it down like he usually does, but he can’t this time. Not now, not _right_ now, when Tommy’s hand feels like sandpaper and sends false pain signals through Techno’s damaged nerves, lighting up his shoulder –

“Don’t touch me,” he hisses, shoving Tommy away.

Tommy looks startled. “I – I’m sorry, I -,”

“Just leave me alone,” Techno shouts, trying to push himself up into a sitting position.

It’s the wrong move. The pain shoots deep into his chest, now, and he doubles over himself, a real cry torn from his throat. His shoulders go rigid and he wraps his arms around himself as the pain reverberates and deepens, feeling so – so vulnerable and helpless and _weak_. And the hurt radiating through him doesn’t stop, not for a long time.

There are voices that sound muffled, or muddled, maybe, words Techno can’t make out as he gasps unevenly for air and tries to ride it out. He hears footsteps running down the stairs, the floor creaking as someone comes near him. He instinctively cringes away, but nobody touches him – there’s just a presence, there, a voice that becomes clearer as this wave of hurt starts to slowly recede.

“…be alright, Tech, we’ve got you,” the voice is saying. It’s Wilbur, Techno realizes. He’s the only one who calls him that. “Tommy’s getting… something. Phil’s getting medicine. You’ll be okay.”

Then there’s a hand on his back, much gentler than Tommy’s. This touch doesn’t hurt. It grounds him, gives him a point of reference for a world that's spinning wildly around him.

“How do you feel?” Wilbur asks softly.

“It really hurts,” Techno whispers, and just the admission seems to break something down in his chest. There are sudden tears in his eyes and he starts crying, overwhelmed with – with everything. Is this permanent? Is this how he’ll feel for the rest of his life? “It just really fuckin’ hurts, Wilbur.”

“I’m so sorry,” Wil says, rubbing Techno’s back gently. “Fuck, dude. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

Techno sniffles, feeling stupid, but feeling... less alone. Not as awful as he usually does, when he's dealing with this by himself. Wilbur, sitting there and talking in a low, gentle voice, stops Techno from falling too far into his own head. He takes a few steadying breaths, trying to calm himself down.

Phil appears again and pushes something gently into Techno’s hands. A handful of pills and a glass of water.

“Take these,” he says, sitting down on the bed, and Techno does. The water tastes so good that he downs the entire glass. “What else do you need?”

“I don’t know,” Techno says hoarsely, handing him the glass. “I – I usually just wait for it to stop.”

Tommy reappears in the doorway, looking a little out of his league. “I, uh – I didn’t know what would help,” he said. In one hand, he held what looked like an ice pack. In another, he has a cup of hot tea.

“Ice, I think,” Techno mumbles, feeling embarrassed, and Tommy hands it to him carefully. Techno feels so uncomfortable, having everyone’s eyes on him – monitoring him, inspecting him. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“Why are you apologizing?” Phil says in exasperation. "You've done _nothing_ wrong, Techno."

But when Techno looks at him, Phil looks wretched, his face filled with worry. Tommy looks jittery, like he’s about to faint or something. He can’t see Wilbur, but he can feel the concern practically radiating off him.

“I don’t like havin’ to ask for help,” he finally says, looking away.

Wilbur’s hand stills on his back for a moment before shifting to his shoulder.

“Well, too fuckin’ bad,” Tommy suddenly explodes, and Techno looks at him, startled. The youngest brother has his fists clenched at his side, a little scowl on his face. “How often are you the one helping us, Techno? Seriously? You can't let us do some of the work?”

“That’s different.”

“It’s not,” Tommy says stubbornly.

“It is, because that’s what I’m good for,” Techno says harshly. The effort sends a stab of pain in his chest and he stops again, taking a shaky breath.

“Okay,” Phil says, standing and holding up a hand. “Let’s give Techno some space, right, Tommy? Help me find some more ice packs.”

Tommy looks like he wants to argue, but Phil gives him the Phil Look and touches his shoulder, and it’s enough to get him out the door with a frustrated sigh.

“Wilbur, you too. Let’s give him some room.”

“Wilbur can stay,” Techno says automatically. "If he wants." He’s always felt safer with Wilbur around in situations like this. He feels, sometimes, like Wil’s able to put Techno’s feelings into words better than Techno himself can.

“Okay,” Phil murmurs, and as he leaves, the room falls quiet. Wilbur doesn't leave.

Techno focuses on breathing. He hugs the ice pack to his chest, and - well. It does help, a little, actually. The pills are starting to help, too. Although he still feels sharp aches all over, he can breathe through them. They’re manageable. He hears Wilbur shift just behind his left shoulder, his hand still gently grounding him.

“Feeling any better?” Wilbur asks.

Techno nods slowly.

Wilbur sighs heavily. “I wish you had told me,” he says.

Techno twists to look at him. “There wasn’t really anythin’ you could do,” he says.

“We could have looked out for you a little more,” Wilbur says, his forehead furrowed. “We could have made sure you didn’t take any more respawns.”

“I can handle it,” Techno says, looking down at his hands.

“I know you _can,”_ Wilbur says. “That’s not the issue. You shouldn’t _have_ to.”

Techno hums, not knowing how to respond. Wilbur’s care feels different. It’s less pity and more… genuine concern. He doesn’t really know how to handle it.

“You should let Tommy and I take some of the burden, Techno. I think that's what Tommy was really trying to say.”

“I just don’t -,” Techno starts, then stops, closing his eyes. It’s hard to put into words.

“What?” Wilbur prompts.

“I don’t want this to happen to you or Tommy,” Techno eventually mumbles. The words are hard to say. “I already have to deal with it, so. It doesn’t really matter what happens to me, I guess. I - I don’t know.”

He feels Wilbur’s hand clench on his shoulder. Then Wilbur shifts, moving so that he can wrap Techno in a very gentle hug.

“You’ve been protecting us,” he says into Techno’s shoulder, and Techno relaxes, because Wilbur gets it. “You… you big, stupid lug.”

That makes Techno laugh, which hurts his chest a little – but it’s worth it. “Insult to injury, much?”

Wilbur backs off. He rubs his face with a hand. “I don’t know what we’d do without you, Techno,” he says honestly. The words surprise Techno. “And I’m not just talking about your ability to protect us. I’m talking about _you,_ man. If – if I were on my own, out here? _Alone with_ _Tommy?_ How would I even cope?”

“That would be pretty awful,” Techno admits, a tiny grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"It would be _horrendous._ Dinners would be just dreadful - I don't know how we'd survive without your one-liners. And Tommy wouldn’t know what to do with himself,” Wilbur keeps going, half to himself. “You know how much he looks up to you? Sometimes, I’m even jealous.”

“He looks up to me because I’m strong,” Techno deflects, rubbing his leg and feeling the weakness there. “What if I’m not strong anymore?”

“He also looks up to you because you’re smart and funny and his _brother,”_ Wilbur says, bumping him with his shoulder. “Techno, you could – you could literally need help holding a pickaxe, and Tommy would still look up to you. You could be too harmless to hurt a spider, and he’d start taking lessons on pacifism.”

“Okay, you lost me there.”

“Maybe not that last bit,” Wilbur amends, “but pretty close.”

Techno chuckles, and they fall into a comfortable silence. Wilbur's words ring in Techno's head. He's not sure he believes them, fully, but it means something that Wilbur would say them at all.

“Thank you, Wil,” he eventually says. He still feels an ache ringing up and down his legs, but he doesn’t feel so sucked into it. He has a grasp on it.

“We’re here for you, Tech,” Wilbur says. “We want to be here for you, like you’re always there for us. You just have to let us. Okay?”

Techno nods just as Phil comes back in. He sits on the bed in front of Techno, his face arranged in the dad-liest expression Techno’s maybe ever seen on him.

“I’m taking you to the doctor tomorrow,” he says firmly. “You’re not the first person who’s experienced post-respawn pain like this, right? So we’re gonna see what we can do about it. I should’ve dragged you in there a long time ago.” 

“It’s okay,” Techno says. “I probably wouldn’t have let you, to be honest.”

“But you’ll let me now?” Phil asks.

Techno glances at Wilbur and nods. “Yeah. I will.”

They leave him alone soon after that so he can get some rest. But a few minutes after his door finally shuts, it creaks open again, letting in a sliver of light from the hallway. Techno turns his head and sees Tommy standing silhouetted in the doorway, looking nervous.

“You awake?” Tommy asks.

“Yeah,” Techno says, pushing himself up on his hands. “What’s wrong?”

Tommy hesitates before walking forward. He’s getting so tall, it’s stupid, Techno thinks. Tommy’s a teenager now, but Techno will always, _always_ see him as their little kid brother. And he still acts like that, sometimes. He’s acting like it now, when he looks nervous, almost shy.

“I’m sorry I yelled earlier,” Tommy says. "I was just upset."

“It’s okay.”

Tommy hesitates for a moment, and then he leans forward, wrapping Techno in a slightly awkward, very gentle hug. Techno freezes for a moment before bringing one arm up, hugging him back.

“Thanks, Techno,” Tommy says softly. "Thank you." Then he straightens up and books it for the door.

Somehow, it makes Techno feel strong.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! Kudos/comments always greatly appreciated ❤️
> 
> [tumblr](https://aenqa.tumblr.com) / [twitter](https://twitter.com/aenqa1)


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